


Monks

by HoneyHyucks



Series: The Sweet Life [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Actor!Jaemin, Alternate Universe, M/M, Mark is whipped, Recreational Drug Use, Running Away, Travel, manager!mark, singer!hyuck, skater! renjun and jeno
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23799871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyHyucks/pseuds/HoneyHyucks
Summary: Mark is aware that, at any moment, it could all end in ruin, but he knows that Lee Donghyuck is more than worth burning out into a forgotten constellation.In which Mark and Donghyuck run away and turn anywhere into everywhere.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun & Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, More TBA - Relationship
Series: The Sweet Life [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714699
Comments: 16
Kudos: 23





	Monks

inspo: monks from[ channel orange ](https://open.spotify.com/album/623Ef2ZEB3Njklix4PC0Rs)

I. A NIGHT UNDER THE STARS

Mark is watching the stars when Donghyuck first suggests it. He’s sitting on the roof of their tour bus, hands wrapped around his knees. In the distance, bright clusters separate, filling in the blues with burnt yellow. The clouds are fading into soft blankets that spread across the skyline, and the gentle winds form goosebumps on Mark’s bare legs as he shivers. Smoke fills his lungs and the body beside him shifts, warm, bronze skin brushing against his.

Donghyuck’s eyes are dark with the exhaustion of someone who spent their evenings under bright lights, nights cramped in small tour bus beds, and mornings nursing iced coffees and microphone packs. A number one album, the top singer in the country, and Mark hasn’t seen him smile once since their tour bus left the company’s parking lot, except the hazy, bright grin he gave underneath the stage lights. But it was fleeting, like the clouds scattering in the sky above them. Mark had always been fascinated with music. He liked the variety, the songs he hadn’t heard yet, but most importantly, he liked the people that sang the words that spoke to him. He knew, the moment he became old enough, that he wanted to work in the music industry. He wanted to see beyond the blinding stage lights, the produced camera angles, and the revised words in magazine articles.

Donghyuck isn’t his first client. He’s just the only one Mark hasn’t had to help fall off the radar, out of the spotlight for good. Mark has been in management for years, and he couldn’t count one year where he hadn’t watched the weight of it all bury some singer or another. Things are a little better now, they have stress management and publicity stunts lined up to give their clients a chance at “extended vacation.” Mark has been managing Donghyuck for two years now, and he thinks that of all the things that will drain the singer into another forgotten face is his father. Mr. Lee is Donghyuck’s self-proclaimed manager. He snatches Donghyuck’s schedule from Mark’s hands every Tuesday, says more at Donghyuck’s press conferences than the singer, and has made more money off the tour than Donghyuck will ever touch.

Mark’s years of management have told him that silence equated to longevity. Remaining silent, nodding at Mr. Lee’s demands and keeping Donghyuck’s image clean meant that he could afford a loft apartment in the city and others in foreign countries and he could buy his friends ridiculously expensive gifts and laugh at their reaction. Mark knows better than to question any of it, not even the sinking feeling that overtook him whenever Mr. Lee yelled at Donghyuck for so long that the singer seemed to burst into tears, when he snatched food from Donghyuck’s hands and replaced it with diet sodas that would send Donghyuck tumbling to the ground after rehearsals, exhausted and hungry, or the way he seemed to keep everyone at a distance from the singer, leaving Donghyuck to stand there, embarrassed and unsure in his loneliness.

Mark had never gone out of his way to form personal relationships with his clients. He’s seen it happen before, the way managers got too close, and when their star fizzled out, they faded with them into distant memories. Mark doesn’t care about being forgotten, he didn’t work his way up from errand boy to one of the industries best managers to be in the spotlight, he did it so he could understand it all better. After one rehearsal, Mr. Lee interrupted Donghyuck so much that the boy stormed off, disappearing backstage. Mark had been busy trying to help the sound and audio crew, but eventually, pity won, and he went off to find the singer. He found Donghyuck curled up behind a curtain, pouring out the diet sodas Mr. Lee had taken great care to keep on hand. Mark hadn’t said anything, he’d just sat beside the younger boy and helped.

When they finished, together they had filled one of the empty bottles with every terrible thing they could find backstage – lemon juice, hot sauce, sugar. They poured it into the bottle, non-diet soda covering the mixture of contents before Donghyuck had shaken it and returned to the stage with his apology gift for his father. The rehearsal continued and Mark was sure he would never forget the smile he shared with Donghyuck when Mr. Lee had taken one sip and was immediately thrown into a coughing fit that turned his face an ugly shade of red. Each word ending in a struggle for breath that left him unable to hover and belittle those around him. For once, rehearsal didn’t end with Donghyuck angry or upset.

After that, Mark and Donghyuck seemed to enter some sort of silent agreement, one where late nights meant sitting in the studio with his guitar, Donghyuck’s head resting on his shoulder as their eyes strained over lyrics, putting on ridiculous disguises so they could do simple things like bowling, families in the lanes over giving weird looks to the guy in a clown wig and shades who kept getting gutter balls, and Donghyuck somehow owning the keys to all of his lofts, even the one in Bali. They’re not dating. Mark doesn’t date his clients. He just stays up late in case Donghyuck will call him, ready to listen to the other boy vent, he gets his ears pierced and fills the empty holes with tiny suns, and he waits in the rain and long lines to buy albums with the other fans.

But there’s nothing to it. He’s just doing his job. Even now, hours after the concert has ended, he’s watching the sunset with Donghyuck on the roof of the tour bus, sharing a cigarette just because Donghyuck doesn’t want to damage his lungs alone. Mark hates nicotine, but he doesn’t hate the boy beside him, so he forces himself to withstand the evening chill and the burning in his lungs. The stars are out tonight, giving him a distraction from the one beside him. 

“What do you think would happen if I left?” Donghyuck speaks up suddenly. His voice is quiet, worn out from hours of singing and his eyes are downcast, staring at the people below them, cleaning up the leftover trash from the outside venue.

Mark shrugs.

“I would have to come with you.” He says, flicking ash from the cigarette before passing it to the boy beside him. He smiles in amusement because he thinks his joke is clever, but when he looks over, Donghyuck’s expression is serious.

“And you would stay with me, right? Even if things got bad” It’s hard not to miss the faint hint of desperation in Donghyuck’s tone, but then he’s smirking and joking, “We could get married and turn your loft in Vancouver into a house.”

“Who said I want to marry you?” Mark scoffs, snatching the cigarette back from the other boy because he hadn’t made any move to smoke it and Mark wanted to get rid of it before someone saw them.

“Because I have the key to your loft-“ Donghyuck tells him, “ _All_ of your lofts, and you just agreed that you would run away with me without even thinking about it”

“We can’t run away.” Mark says, shaking his head.

“Why not?” Donghyuck whines, the pleading pitch to his tone making Mark’s chest ache. He wants so badly to give the boy beside him anything he wants, but this is the first thing that he can’t give in to so easily.

“You just signed a contract for a five-month tour.” He reminders the singer, taking a puff of the cigarette, smoke wafting in the evening air before he adds bluntly, “Today is only day three”

“I didn’t sign anything.” Is Donghyuck’s response as he stares at the setting sun, “My dad signs everything, remember?”

It was true. Mr. Lee scribbled his sloppy, ineligible signature on everything that had to do with his son – contracts, albums, and even checks. Mark has dealt with fraud before but his dislike for the older man made it increasingly difficult each day not to call up the nearest lawyer.

“If we did run away, where would we even go?” He asks, “Where would we stay? And what would we do there? You’re a famous singer, you can’t just decide to start living normally one day. Or have you not thought that far along?”

When his response is met with silence, he figures Donghyuck isn’t serious about wanting to get away. But when he looks over, the somber darkness in the singer's eyes makes his heart ache in the worst way. His fingers twitch and the cigarette nearly slips from his grip.

“Sorry” Donghyuck says so quietly that it dies out even in the silence of the approaching night. “Forget I said anything.”

And Mark can see it, the need to escape. But he doesn’t say anything, and there’s not much that he can do. He turns away from the boy beside him, takes another drag of the cigarette, and wonders what a mess five months can make.

II. THE GREAT ESCAPE

The next day, Mark is pissed and annoyed. Everywhere he turned, Mr. Lee seemed to be there, complaining about one thing or the other. He’s had Donghyuck change the setlist five times despite it going against what the tour had advertised, he interrupts the stage crews lunch break to have them rearrange the band’s equipment, he yells at Donghyuck when the singer accepts a cupcake from catering, and he sends Mark on the impossible mission of obtaining more stage lights an hour before a show that’s to take place outside _in the daylight_. Now, Mark is hiding on the tour bus because he doesn’t want to lose his job. His jaw is clenched as he sits there in the cramped bunk, drinking the alcohol catering had provided them, watching a Livestream of the concert taking place just outside.

He knew it was pathetic, but he couldn’t bring himself to be around Mr. Lee. Each time he saw Donghyuck’s shaking hands or his embarrassed, strained smile whenever his father snatched food from his hands, Mark felt anger that he didn’t know he was capable of. He’s never been so invested in the relationships of his clients, but he’s also never watched someone be suffocated in front of him like this. Mark sighs, jumping down from the bunk. He heads to the kitchen, in search of more alcohol. He raids the mini-fridge, settling on the only beer he finds. He unscrews the top, prepared to return to the cramped bunk when the pile of papers on the kitchen counter catches his attention. He finds himself squinting down at them, reading the fine print and the familiar, messy signature scribbled across the top.

Finally, Mark knocks the papers off the counter with the angry sweep of his arm. He couldn’t believe it. He’s been in the industry for years. He knows greed. He’s seen what it’s done to people, the extent to which people would go for a few extra dollars to their name. He knows managers who have signed away their clients to the devil himself. But he couldn’t understand Mr. Lee or why he had signed Donghyuck to more years of back to back tours, albums, and promotions without any royalties. Donghyuck would never receive any payment for the nights he spent pouring over lyrics, recording the same verses until the veins in his neck strained, the ones where he was cramped in the tour bus, trying to calm his panic attacks or the ones where he spent hours on stage, blinded and starving under the lights.

Mark has made several promises to himself to not get involved with clients and their personal relationships, but he’s drunk, annoyed, and tired of not being any help. He’s not thinking when he rushes off to find his suitcase, when he changes his clothes, or when he shoves a mask in his pocket, ripping up the documents before leaving the tour bus. Outside, the air is filled with smoke and the music hits his ears with an intensity that makes him stumble a bit as he approaches the crowd. Outdoor concerts are the worse.

It takes him ten minutes to get into the crowd, and its only because a few people recognize him. Donghyuck is singing an upbeat song, one that makes the audience move restlessly with him. Mark melds with the crowd, letting them naturally push him forward. He’s sweating and his heart is beating fast from the alcohol and just how dizzy and overstimulated he feels. But he can see Donghyuck and the stage lights Mr. Lee had forced him to buy, meaning that he was as close to the stage as he was going to get. The sky has faded into burnt orange, the sun was setting, and the concert was nearing its end. Mark can see the way the fans in front of him are itching to get closer to the stage, so, subtly, he pushes from behind.

At that same moment, Donghyuck appears to spot him in the crowd. His eyes widen slightly but Mark motions for him to pretend that his manager isn’t drunk and slightly insane. His efforts don’t go unrewarded when he watches the fans stumble over the barrier where they ignore their surprise to reach out at Donghyuck, who pretends to be caught off guard when they grab his ankle and pull him down into the crowd. Even with the music blaring and the fans shrieking filling his ears, Mark can hear Mr. Lee cry out about the no stage diving rule. He knows then that he has to act quickly.

He pushes his way out of the crowd and runs to the back, past security who flinch at Mr. Lee’s shouting in their earpiece. Mark slips his mask on and waits. At the first sign of Donghyuck, who’s grinning, hair sticking to his forehead as the crowd passes him along, he holds out his arms and waits. When the singer lands in his arms, he turns and leans down, giving Donghyuck the chance to land on his feet. Once the young boy is steady, he grabs Donghyuck’s hand and without another glance back, they take off. He can hear the bodyguards, the crowd cheering, and Mr. Lee’s shouting, but they don’t look back.

Eventually, they manage to find a taxi a few streets over.

“To the airport, please.” Donghyuck announces to the driver, who takes one look at Mark in his black mask and Donghyuck, who’s shirt sleeve was torn off while crowd surfing and shakes his head, muttering something about strange kids before the car switches directions. 

Mark takes in Donghyuck’s smile, the way it reveals his teeth and brings light to his eyes, he listens to his own heartbeat in response to it, and then his head hits the seat cover, he closes his eyes and has no regrets.

At the airport, Mark buys tickets to a random location. He gave his mask to Donghyuck so they could maneuver through the place with ease. It’s when they get to the terminal that the singer tugs on his arm suddenly.

“Where are we going?” He asks quietly, but he doesn’t look unsure.

Mark is sure Donghyuck would follow him into the sun.

“Anywhere.” Mark tells him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

It works for Donghyuck who smiles and squeezes Mark’s hand back before the two walk through the terminal, toward something new.

III. A TOKYO STORY

A few hours later, they land in Tokyo. Mark is prepared to pull out his phone and struggle with maps and translator apps when Donghyuck shakes his head and grabs his hand. Outside the airport, they’re overwhelmed by the rush of taxis and people. Donghyuck hails down a taxi and asks the driver to take them to the nearest hotel. The driver does as asked, glancing at Donghyuck in a way that made Mark shift nervously in his seat. Donghyuck pulls his mask back into place, but it doesn’t help that they pass a billboard advertising the Japanese leg of his tour. If the driver is aware of what’s happening, he doesn’t question it.

Instead, he stops in front of a hotel and flashes them a warm smile, one that says _good luck_. Mark makes sure to give him an extra tip before Donghyuck is pulling him out of the car, into the hotel. It has polished floors, marble counters, a koi pond, and a woman in a black kimono who greets them enthusiastically. She shows them to the third floor, two-bedroom Donghyuck asks for, though her eyes are mostly on the singer when she bows before leaving.

“I can’t believe it.” Donghyuck says once she’s gone. He follows Mark to the window, wrapping his arms around the other boy’s neck and burying his face in his back, “We did it, hyung!”

“I’m expecting another loft in Tokyo now for all my hard work.” Mark jokes to which Donghyuck pushes him away with a snort.

“Are you a property broker or a manager?” The singer scoffs to which Mark cringes.

“Definitely not a manager anymore.” He mutters, rubbing at the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. He instantly regrets it when he sees how guilty it makes Donghyuck look. He looks ashamed in a way that makes Mark hate himself as he attempts to backtrack, “But hey, why don’t you get some rest? It’s going to take me a while to figure out how to get around, and we can go get something to eat later tonight.”

Donghyuck looks a little hesitant at the mention of both food and rest but then he nods and drags himself toward the bed. Mark watches him bury himself in the mounds of freshly washed, white covers, and all it takes is mere minutes for the singer to pass out. Mark pulls out his phone, prepared to search nearby restaurants, or figure out just what the hell they’re doing when his phone starts to vibrate. The name on the caller ID makes him curse quietly. He looks at where Donghyuck is sleeping peacefully before he makes his way out of the room, glancing at each end of the hallway before answering.

“Hey hyung-“

“Care to explain to me why both you _and_ your client have gone missing in the middle of a tour?”

Doyoung’s voice isn’t harsh. He just sounds worried, and the hurried chatter and rustling on his ends let Mark know that he’s probably stressed beyond measure as well.

“Uh, I can explain?” Is Mark’s hesitant response, though his mind was drawing blanks.

“Please do.”

“I don’t know hyung…” Mark trails off, foot tracing patterns in the soft carpet beneath him, “I know running away wasn’t the best idea, but I was a little drunk and it seemed like a good idea at the time.” 

“So, when the police catch up to you and Donghyuck’s father takes us to court, you want me to say that you were drunk but it seemed like a good idea.” Doyoung scoffs, and Mark can already see him rubbing his forehead from stress, “This is going to cost us _millions_.”

“No more lofts in Vancouver?” Mark tries to joke to ease the tension.

“You’ll be lucky to get a decent trash can in Vancouver when this is all over.” Doyoung snorts, and it seems to work because he sounds amused but then he sighs and asks, “What were you thinking, Mark?”

But Mark doesn’t have any answers. He just thinks of Donghyuck and the desolate look in his eyes that night on top of the tour bus.

“He looked so miserable, hyung.” He mutters, “I just wanted to see him smile for once.”

It’s a ridiculous excuse, and Mark is sure that any other time, Doyoung would have scolded him for getting so involved with a client, but he listens as the older man sighs once more.

“I imagine that might be worth it.” He says finally, “Where are you now?”

At first, Mark hesitates but then he remembers that he can trust Doyoung with his life, which is exactly what he does when he answers.

“Japan”

“That’s not too far.” Doyoung comments, “Do you have any money?”

“I have my wallet.” Mark tells him.

“Where are you planning to go from here?”

The question was inevitable. Still, Mark found himself scrambling for answers that weren’t there. In the crowd, he had only wanted one thing, and that was just to get Donghyuck away, from the lights, the screaming, the emptiness, the loneliness, but most importantly, from his own father.

“I don’t know.” Is his quiet response, “Wherever things take us”

“Well, in the case that things get too bad and we can’t get in contact, I want you to know something, Minhyung.” Doyoung says, and Mark hasn’t been called _Minhyung_ since his last trip back home, “You’re not the bad guy, so don’t ever think that. The real monster is Mr. Lee and he’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants, so be careful. And just know, a lot of us aren’t mad or angry, we’re actually rooting for you guys. But there’s only so much we can do to help since Lee has us legally by the throat.”

Somehow, the weight of the situation hits Mark then, several hours much too late. There’s a tightening in his throat, an ache in his chest that chokes him up. He’s ruining the career he’s worked years to build, but he knows that he would not go back and do things differently. He’d pull Donghyuck towards their anywhere all the same. 

“Thanks, hyung.” He manages finally, “I don’t know what else to say.”

“Just keep moving. Don’t stay in one place too long because he’s already sending people after you. One more night in Japan then board the next flight out of there. Disguises are your best friend and don’t answer any calls from the agency, even from people you thought you could trust. That’s all I can think of. Just be smart, Mark, about this…and other things” Mark wants to ask what other things are but Doyoung speaks quickly, “And I’ll help you out. This call never happened.”

The last thing Mark hears is a _good luck Minhyung_ before the line goes dead. He wanted to say so many things, maybe even a goodbye or a talk to you later, as if he can still call Doyoung up in the middle of the day to get lunch. But things are different now. So, Mark puts his phone away, sighs, and heads back into the hotel room. Donghyuck’s sleeping face is enough to ease the weight on Mark’s chest, threatening to make him sink. He sits on his own bed and grabs the notepad and pen provided by the hotel. He spends the next hour or so searching flights, restaurants, and hovering over the news apps on his phone.

He doesn’t have to open any of them, because when he flips on the tv and squints at the channel guide, what he sees makes him drop the remote. The reporter is speaking in Japanese, but the outside concert venue is clear as day. Mark can see Donghyuck singing on stage, the crowd dragging him down, and then he can see himself with his black mask, holding out his arms for the singer to land in. It shows their escape, a shaky clip from a cell phone video, and then Mr. Lee is there with a microphone, tears streaming down his face that if Mark didn’t know the man, he would think were real. He hears _devastated_ and _kidnapped_ and then Mark turns off the tv altogether. He pulls out his phone and searches for the nearest convenience store.

Convincing Donghyuck to dye their hair is easy. He’s already rattling off colors when Mark pulls him out onto the crowded Tokyo streets. Mark can’t stop thinking about a life of flights and masks, and Donghyuck notices because he suggests they put blindfolds on and dye each other’s hair for fun. And Mark can't say no to the singer or his bright smiles, so that night, he sits on the floor of their hotel bathroom, arguing with Donghyuck about how long to leave the dye in.

“That could be a good disguise too.” Donghyuck tells him when Mark complains that the singer is going to make him bald. He laughs loudly when Mark chases him out of the bathroom. He has the singer cornered when Donghyuck raises his arms in surrender, snickering, “Okay, okay! Let’s just wash it out hyung…and hope there’s something left on your scalp after-“

Donghyuck’s laughter makes Mark smile, even as he chases the other boy back into the bathroom.

That night, Mark throws his head back and laughs. He twists the small wheel in his hands and the force sends him craning to the left as he stomps down on the gas. The wind blows Ashen purple strands of hair in all directions as his go-kart speeds through the night. He can see Donghyuck ahead of him, reddish-brown curls framing his face, falling into his wide, brown eyes. He was smiling, even with how ridiculous they looked, cramped in go-karts as the new Mario and Luigi.

He had spent a good hour convincing Mark to put on the green shirt, hat, and overalls. But Mark figures that if they’re starting something new, it was best to make it count. He also couldn’t help the way his face flushed and his heart rate had sped up the slightest bit when Donghyuck in his bright red Mario ensemble, had pulled him under the Sakura trees to their destination, turning over his shoulder and flashing the manager teeth and bright warm eyes that reminded Mark that none of it was worth regretting.

“Why is Pikachu on our ass?” Donghyuck calls out when Mark finally catches up.

They speed past shops, restaurants, and people, and in the whirlwind of it all, Mark doesn’t let Donghyuck leave his sight for a second.

“I don’t know.” Mark tells him, and when he does glance back, a man with a Pikachu costume is gaining on them so he looks over at his singer and smirks, “But let’s show him what the Mario bros are capable of”

“Think you can keep up Luigi?” Donghyuck teases to which Mark rolls his eyes.

“Ask yourself that while I wait on you at the finish line!” He calls out to the singer before pushing down harder on the gas.

His go-kart jerks forward and he shifts to the left only to immediately let up when Donghyuck catches up to him. He waits for the other boy to speed past him before he picks up the pace, cutting off Pikachu who serves to the left, tapping the breaks as his car falls behind slightly. The rest of the race is a blur of laughter, making fun of Pikachu who never manages to pass them, and swerving around corners until they grow dizzy. By the time they slow to a stop, the night has stretched into a starless sky, bright, neon lights fill the streets as shops and restaurants come to life. Donghyuck crosses the finish line first, pulling to a stop near a shop where a group of girls come out, faces flushed when he smiles at them, hair wild but still a sight to see. Mark shakes his head as he pulls to a stop behind him.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, interrupting whatever staring match was taking place between Donghyuck and the girl in the front. Mark waves his hand a bit desperately to get the singer’s attention, “Pick somewhere, anywhere you want.”

“Sushi bar it is” Donghyuck replies with a grin before shoving his Mario hat back on. The group of girls giggles at the sight, whispering between themselves, and Mark is more than grateful when they pull off onto the street once more.

“Is this how you Nintendo people operate?” Someone shouts and they look over just in time to see Pikachu approaching, looking both annoyed and hurt that he had lost.

“Looks like he wants round two!” Donghyuck glances back at Mark with a smirk.

The manager shakes his head, watching as Pikachu attempts to get by only for Donghyuck to quickly pass him once more. Pikachu calls out after him about the mistreatment of yellow Pokémon, and Mark laughs before stepping on the gas and shooting pass the man as well, following after Donghyuck into the cloudless night.

They don’t find a sushi bar. Instead, they awkwardly shuffle into one of the fanciest sushi restaurants Mark has ever seen. The traditional Japanese décor, the women in ivory and black kimonos, the koi pond stretching the entirety of the dining area, and the smell of teas and sauces are overwhelming.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else.” Mark starts, pulling on the sleeve of Donghyuck’s Mario costume.

But before they can leave, a hostess appears. He looks like someone Mark would manage with smooth, tan skin, animated, dark eyes, and light hair pulled into a ponytail with bangs framing a soft face.

“Welcome to Nakamoto’s! I’m Yuta.” He exclaims with a kind smile before he notices their outfits and if possible, smiles even wider, “Oh, how cute! Are you guys…”

He trails off, but it’s unmistaken how his eyes linger on the way Mark is practically pressed up against Donghyuck and their hands are interlocked from him trying to pull the other boy along.

“No!” “Yes!”

Mark looks over at Donghyuck with a glare, but the singer was too busy smiling at Yuta to notice (or care).

They try again.

“We’re not together-“ “We’re _married_.”

Yuta looks utterly confused and Mark doesn’t blame him. But besides being kind, he also seemed to be quite understanding because pretty soon, he’s smiling once more.

“Okay, so married and not together, but also Luigi and Mario. Got it.” The hostess says before ushering them along, “I have the perfect table for my not married couple.”

The dim lighting dances on Donghyuck’s skin and Mark sees smooth bronze and curls and he doesn’t resist when the singer links their arms. Yuta leads them to a table in the very back, in a separate room. It has a small koi pond and a few Uchiwa on the walls, candles gave the room dim lighting to reveal a table with flowers and a few empty plates and teacups. Yuta smiles before sliding the back door open to reveal Tokyo with its nighttime traffic, bright lights, and clusters of people, smiling and laughing.

“Order whatever you want, but just to let you know, there’s a chefs special tonight on the sushi.” Yuta tells them, placing two menus before them when Donghyuck and Mark kneel at the table.

“We’ll take it!” Donghyuck tells him, and Mark has no protests, so Yuta nods, picking up the menus just as quickly as he had put them down.

“Coming right up! I think I like you, Mario.” Yuta says with a bright smile aimed at Donghyuck. But on his way out, he pats Mark’s shoulder and says, so that only the manager can hear, “Nice choice, Luigi.”

Then, the hostess is gone, sliding the door closed behind him.

“Did you have to tell him we were married?” Mark asks, but he isn’t complaining – just curious.

He watches as Donghyuck shrugs.

“Did you _have_ to buy a loft in every city that you don’t go to?” The singer shoots back.

“But what’s the difference?” Mark replies, unable to let his curiosity go, “I mean, what’s the difference if we’re married or single? I don’t get it.”

Donghyuck doesn’t answer at first. He glances out of the door at the cars and the bright lights of Tokyo, and then he looks back at Mark, the warmth in his brown eyes intensified by the candles.

“I’m just having fun.” He says with a shrug before his voice grows quiet, “We’re in disguise, hyung. We can create whatever life we want.”

He returns his attention to the city still awake behind them. Mark counts the moles on his face, the tiny constellations that expand smooth, bronze planes that make up the boy beside him. He wants to reach out and trace his fingers over the stars, over full cheeks, and the slender slope of Donghyuck’s neck but he stops himself. Mark swallows thickly, his heart aches, and he quickly looks away.

“Thank you for dining with us!” Yuta tells them later that night.

Donghyuck’s cheeks are flushed and he’s smiling so wide that it makes Mark smiles in amusement. Yuta had fed them so much sushi that Mark felt uncomfortable in his Luigi costume. He showed them eating games that made their room one of constant laughter and shouting until Donghyuck almost choked on a Temari roll and Mark quickly put an end to it all. They spent the rest of the dinner asking Yuta about his life while making up one of their own.

They found out that that the hostess was originally from Osaka but had moved to Tokyo and gotten an apartment with his boyfriend who was from Zhejiang. Both were studying at Tokyo University, Yuta to become a kindergarten teacher and his boyfriend with dance. Donghyuck seemed really intent on hearing as much about Yuta and his partner as much as possible, and Mark wasn’t sure if it was because it was the singer’s first time having an actual conversation with someone that wasn’t Mark or his father or if it was the fond smile and enthusiasm that seemed to overtake Yuta whenever he talked about his boyfriend.

Mark hadn’t really been paying attention to much of anything except the light in Donghyuck’s eyes when he listened to how Yuta and Sicheng fell in love, so he missed when Donghyuck told the other male in return that he and Mark were recently married and decided to leave on a whim to travel and celebrate their new lives. The story seemed to excite Yuta, someone who seemed enthusiastic about the matters of love. After, Mark had looked up and the hostess was bringing in two slices of Tiramisu with fizzling candles on top. He sang to them as if it were a birthday or a wedding and Donghyuck was quick to join in. The candles had illuminated Mark’s fond smile as he watched them bounce around the room, creating a melodic harmony that seemed to carry into the Tokyo night. Now, Yuta is smiling at them after refusing Mark’s attempt to pay the bill – he said it was on the house.

“Come back and visit sometime.” The hostess tells them and Donghyuck is quick to promise that they will, though it would probably be very far off. Still, Yuta smiles serenely nonetheless and waves, “Have a good night, Mario and Luigi, husband and not husband.”

Mark and Donghyuck wave and say their farewells to the sweet hostess before stepping out into the Tokyo night. It’s not cold, but they walk so closely that their shoulders brush, regardless.

“That was amazing.” Donghyuck’s voice is quiet but his eyes are alight with excitement, “Life is amazing.”

“I’m glad you had fun.” Mark tells him, knocking his shoulder against the other boys with a small smile. The singer is silent at first, but then he speaks up once more.

“I was kind of scared when I saw you in the crowd.” He says, “I thought we were only going to leave the concert, not the country.”

“I have no idea what I was thinking.” Mark admits before he shrugs, “But I’m glad I did it.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes at the way Mark tries to make such a drastic decision something casual, but then he smiles and grabs the older boy’s hand with an unspoken _me too_.

They walk to the hotel in a comfortable silence in which both are fascinated with the lights and movement around them. For once, Mark isn’t thinking about what to do next. He’s just enjoying the warm softness of Donghyuck’s hand and a belly full of sushi. He realizes then that he wants more Tokyo nights with Donghyuck. But a sinking feeling courses through him when he realizes that it will have to wait. Pretty soon, they spot the hotel with its expensive appearance. Mark starts to dig through his overall pockets for the room key when Donghyuck hits his shoulder suddenly.

“Isn’t that our room?” He asks, pointing to a window on the third floor.

Mark realizes that their window is open though he made a point to close it before leaving. But it’s the man in a dark blue uniform he catches a glimpse of through the window that has Mark’s heart sinking. He looks a few feet ahead of them at the black and white car with a siren on top and then he thinks of the lady at the front desk of the hotel who had stared at Donghyuck without blinking, and he realizes that they should have been running sooner.

“Run” Mark tells Donghyuck quietly to which the other boy frowns.

“But our stuff is up there-“

“I have my wallet, that’s all that matters.” Mark says, reaching over and grabbing his hand, “I’m really sorry Hyuck, but we have to go.”

He grabs Donghyuck’s hand and pulls him into the Tokyo night again, and he realizes with dread and exhilaration, that this is only the beginning.

That night, Mark rests his head against the uncomfortable headrest of the plane. The other passengers are staring at him and Donghyuck curiously, two boys cuddled up in Mario and Luigi costumes. Donghyuck’s head is resting against Mark’s shoulder and Mark can smell the honey and citrus from his dark curls.

“New York City” Donghyuck reads the tickets in his hands with hesitant English.

Mark still smiles proudly nonetheless before the buzzing of his phone catches his attention and he looks down.

**Na Jaemin**

_You are invited! Enter the Jazz Age in a 1920’s e_ _xtravaganza thrown_ _by New York’s man of the century,_ _Gatsby’s modern protégé. Doors open_ _at 11 pm. Come_ _suited_ _and ready to dance. Hope to see you there!_

Mark shakes his head at the text that was obviously from Jaemin’s PR team. But he looks at the time mentioned and relates it to the time their flight will land. Then, he turns his attention to the window and the weight of Donghyuck’s head resting on his shoulder as the singer dozes off peacefully, he watches the clouds pass and smiles.

It was perfect.

IV. THE UPSTATE JAZZ KING

New York is a whirlwind of movement. There is the honking of horns, the smell of fresh coffee and greasy foods, shouting on the streets, and girls who pass, giggling as their perfumes fill the air. Donghyuck had wanted to see everything, but they had arrived with only two hours to spare before Jaemin’s party. They had pizza and Mark let Donghyuck drag him around every shopping center in sight before they went to get suited for the party. Jaemin seemed to have bought a mansion across the river just to fit his theme and Mark couldn’t help but roll his eyes when he found out.

The model turned actor was his former client, one of the few people who hadn’t made Mark’s job a living hell (except for when it came to dating scandals). Though they went separate ways professionally, they were still friends. Jaemin would still show up to Mark’s lofts unannounced, with some unfamiliar face beside him, staring at the actor with smitten looks that told Mark they didn’t know how short the fling would be. Despite his unpredictability in the romance department, Jaemin was a successful, rising actor. He decided to make New York his home base, and it’s for this reason that Mark hasn’t seen his friend in years.

Jaemin’s party mansion looks like something straight out of the 1920s with a massive courtyard, cobblestone pathways, high walls, and bright lights. Old, jazz aged cars are pulling up to the front where men in their old-fashioned suits and women with their dresses that split at the leg are walking out, already buzzed and excited. Mark has a dark, pinstriped suit and his hair, that Donghyuck had dyed back brown at the hotel, is slicked back, a rebellious stray strand lingering in front of his eyes. Donghyuck has a velvet suit top, black slacks, and his curls are still damp from his shower. He’s holding the vintage camera Mark had given in and bought him. He decided to mimic Jaemin and become the modern-day Nick Carraway and make Mark his Jordan Baker.

“Come on Mr. Baker” Donghyuck says when they arrive at the marble steps. He links his arm with Mark then grips his camera with a small smile, “We have a lonely millionaire to interview”

The inside is even more crowded with plush, red rugs, crystal chandeliers, marble floors, glasses of red wine in gloved hands, pinstriped suits and silk dresses, pianos, and jazz music. Mark is overwhelmed, but he’s also glad that they’re standing in the middle of it all. He looks up at the balcony overlooking it all to find Jaemin there, staring down at it all with a dramatic, lonely expression as if he’s Gatsby’s 21st century reincarnate. Mark rolls his eyes before leading Donghyuck up the stairs to the actor in his black suit, hair slicked back, and jaw still as sharp and defined as ever.

“Mr. Gatsby!” Donghyuck exclaims, “Just a second of your time!”

“No pictures please” Jaemin sighs dramatically when Donghyuck snaps a picture with his polaroid camera. He slouches as if he’s been dealing with unrequited love for several years before he straightens and grins, “And scene! I can already hear the Oscars calling my name.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Mark tells him, shaking his head.

“Is that Daisy?” Donghyuck speaks up suddenly. The three look at where a blond woman Mark recognizes as the actress Jeon Soyeon is showing a group of partygoers the details of her designer dress. Her blond hair is curled over her shoulders and her black dress matches Jaemin’s suit perfectly, “Mrs. Buchanan, over here!”

Mark shakes his head as he watches Donghyuck run off with his camera raised after Soyeon whose eyes widen because it's too late to escape. Jaemin looks amused by the sight before he turns to Mark.

“So, you kidnap one of Korea’s most famous singers, but you still manage to make it back to the 1920s on time.” The actor says with a small smile, “I was always impressed by your time management skills, Mark Lee.”

“What can I say? Kidnapping pays more these days.” Mark tells him with a shrug to which Jaemin laughs at his attempt to meet the theme when he slicks back his hair even more.

“That’s funny.” Jaemin replies, leaning against the balcony, and with his hear slicked black and his bright teeth on display, Mark can see why he’d been voted one of the most handsome men in the world, “I’ll be sure to remember that when they call me to testify in court.”

“Donghyuck is nineteen.” Is Mark’s response as he comes to stand in front of the balcony, placing his hands on the top as he turns to look at the actor, “He’s old enough to make his own decisions.”

“Sure, everyone else knows he’s nineteen.” Jaemin tells him, “But you and I know that nineteen years with a father like his means living like a nine-year-old. So when his favorite hyung kidnaps him in the middle of his concert, he wouldn’t dare say no.”

Mark frowns. Jaemin’s words rubbed him the wrong way, but when he thinks of Donghyuck, who’s had yet to say no to anything Mark has ever suggested, he realizes with sinking dread that the actor's words are true. It makes him snatch a glass of wine from one of the passing waiter’s tray. Jaemin rolls his eyes as he watches Mark down the drink in three gulps.

“It’s not like that.” The manager mutters finally, eyes downcast as he turns to look down at the party again.

“Maybe.” Jaemin shrugs, glancing at where Donghyuck is taking so many pictures of Soyeon, she looks as if she’s going blind from the flash, before he returns his attention to the male beside him, “But what do I know? I’m just Jay Gatsby, and if it isn’t about my Daisy, I don’t really care.”

“You and Soyeon?” Mark asks with a small grin.

“Mm, she’s gorgeous, but it’s just for the publicity or… what is it in 1920’s terms? The press! It’s just something for the press, the matching costumes, and all.” Jaemin tells him before he grins as well, “I’m dating a guy from California right now. He’s hot, which you already knew, and he’s really-“

“Rich?” Mark guesses because the actor seemed to have the habit of making the wealthiest men and women fall in love with him.

“Actually no, he works at a vape shop.” Jaemin says with a snort. The actor turns to lean over the balcony, the chandelier lights reflected in his brown eyes when he sighs dreamily, “I was going to say… he’s really sweet.”

Mark is sure that he’s never heard such a gentle wistfulness from Jaemin when talking about his partners. He usually spoke about them with a casual ease that indicated they’d be gone in the next week or two. But no, the way he’s staring down at the party with such longing reminds Mark of Gatsby, and he thinks its all fitting.

“Can I have this dance, Mr. Baker?”

When Mark turns around, Donghyuck is there, giving a small bow.

“We’re not that far in the past, old sport.” Jaemin tells him with a pat on the shoulder, making the singer roll his eyes.

“Whatever, let’s dance.” He says bluntly, grabbing Mark’s hand to pull him along. Jaemin raises a brow at the sight before following.

“Someone collect my lover off the floor.” Jaemin demands with the clap of his hands, “I’d like to dance.”

Soyeon is slumped dazedly on the floor, struggling to recover from the flash when a group of waiters haul her up and deliver her to Jaemin.

“You’re so pretty when you’re blinded by the lights dear.” He says, poking her cheek as they follow after Mark and Donghyuck down the stairs.

The first floor is filled with people sipping wine, waiters bustling through with trays, women spraying clouds of perfume, men taking off their hats and coats, and people doing the waltz and the tango. But it’s the live band with the saxophones and trumpets that make Donghyuck’s brown eyes widen underneath the chandelier lights. Mark is caught off guard when the younger grabs him, linking their hands and wrapping his free arm around the manager. They meld in quickly with the other couples, moving around the marble floors to the smooth jazz beat. Donghyuck is smiling so impossibly wide, face flushed as he stares at their feet, to keep them on beat but to also avoid looking at the man in front of him. Mark watches him closely, only tearing his eyes away when Jaemin appears beside them, arms wrapped around Soyeon, who, now awake from her daze, looks just as intent as Donghyuck is on getting the steps right.

“Where are you headed next on your little tour?” Jaemin asks, and when Mark pauses, clearly unsure, he grins, “How about California? It’s just for a few days. You won’t regret it.”

At the mention of California, Donghyuck looks up, eyes alight with excitement that lets Mark know he’ll be spending the night buying last-minute plane tickets.

Jaemin is grinning, Donghyuck is smiling, and Doyoung’s words flash through Mark’s mind as he takes in both sights of beauty and brightness.

 _Just keep moving_.

So he does.

V. CALIFORNIA KINGS PART ONE

Jaemin steps out of the airport in San Francisco with a floral shirt, cargo pants, and slides. Donghyuck snorts at him as he drags his suitcase along.

“You do realize we’re in California and not Hawaii, right?”

“You do realize I’m one of the world’s top-paid actors, right?” Jaemin replies, “I could walk out with a trashcan on and people would call it fashion.”

As if to prove his point, he motions to the group of fans who’d been following them through the airport the entire time. When Mark looks back, he notes with dread that the group is now wearing floral patterned shirts similar to Jaemin’s that they must have bought from a gift shop last minute.

“Whatever.” Donghyuck says though he can’t suppress a shudder, “Where’s your boyfriend?”

They look around the crowded street in front of the airport where taxis and Ubers are picking up people, couples are dragging suitcases with their children trailing behind, and the sun beats down on them in distant heat waves.

“Jeno!” Jaemin shouts suddenly, waving at a figure in the distance.

Mark squints and wonders if he’s in some sort of weird dream. The guy is nothing like the elitist snobs that usually hung on Jaemin’s arms with designer labels, custom clothes, and more lofts than Mark could ever dream of owning. The boy, Jeno, is wearing a plain shirt, jeans, and sneakers, and his blond hair is light and wild. When he gets closer, Mark notices just how good looking is, even in the cloud of smoke from the vape pen in his hands. Donghyuck glances at the no-smoking sign next to the airport then looks at Mark who shrugs.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you guys landed.” Jeno apologizes as soon as he gets close enough. He smiles, eyes crinkling as he addresses Mark and Donghyuck, “It’s nice to meet you guys. I’m-“

“This is Jeno, the cutest boy in Cali.” Jaemin interrupts, cupping Jeno’s chin and squeezing his cheeks with a fond smile before motioning to Mark and Donghyuck, “Jeno, this is Mark, the kidnapper, and Donghyuck aka Hyuck, the kidnapee.” 

“Is that code for something?” Jeno asks with an amused smile, though he was clearly confused.

“Yes, Jaemin is, unfortunately, suffering from the severe inability to mind his own business.” Donghyuck says, grabbing the actor by the hand as if he’s in critical condition, “We should get him out of the sun because it's getting worse by the second.”

“Don’t touch me, D lister.” Jaemin snatches his hand away.

“Don’t worry.” Mark tells Jeno, “You get used to being the only normal person with these two.”

“That’s reassuring. I guess.” Jeno rubs at the back of his neck with a shy smile before suggesting almost timidly, “Well, I was going to meet our other friend, Renjun, at the skate park, if you guys want to come along. But I understand if you’re jetlagged or hungry-“

“Skate park?” Donghyuck interrupts with an eager look, “I’m in!”

He rushes off with his suitcase even though he doesn’t know where Jeno’s car is. Jaemin follows him, calling out shotgun regardless. Jeno cocks his head to the side, clearly amused, before he trails after them. Mark sighs, wondering what the sunny state would have in store for them before following.

The car ride to the skate park consists of Donghyuck singing loudly to each song that plays, Jaemin staring at Jeno so fondly that Mark almost throws up, and Jeno pointing out the more touristy sights with sweet, patient smiles. Mark is pretty glad when they arrive at the skate park. He jumps out of Jeno’s jeep and breathes in the warm air like a madman. Donghyuck tells him to “stop being so dramatic hyung” but he ignores him to follow Jeno, who ushers them along gently with a smitten Jaemin hanging on his arm.

The skate park is huge. Mark has never seen so many dips and ramps in his life. The washed-out gray concrete surrounding it is filled with people flipping their skateboards and laughing quietly among themselves. Mark felt a bit self-conscious in his slacks and Gucci shirt. It doesn’t help that Jeno leads them to a group of boys who eye them closely as they approach. But it’s the one who bursts out of the ranks, skateboard tucked under his arm as he points an accusing hand at Jeno who catches his attention first.

“Took you long enough, asshole.”

His face is flushed from the heat, but his dark eyes, dark hair, and smooth defined features make him look like the models Donghyuck would pose with for photoshoots. But when he gets close enough, Mark wrinkles his nose as the smell of cannabis invades his nostrils. The kid smelled like a walking dispensary, but Mark figures that it makes sense because the boy’s eyes are somewhat red and he’s laughing at nothing in particular.

“But you always take forever when Princess Peach is with you.” The boy says, glancing at Jaemin who pouts.

“That was mean, Renjun.” The actor whines before pushing the shades he’d put on in the car up, muttering, “But it was also kind of hot.”

Jeno doesn’t even look remotely bothered by his boyfriend’s comment, making Mark wonder if he was still on the plane, dreaming.

“Renjun, this is Mark and Donghyuck, Nana’s friends.” Jeno introduces with a bright smile, “This is Renjun, my roommate.”

Renjun stares at them, his eyes lingering on their clothes and how they differed from that of everyone else at the skate park. He probably thought that they were snobs. But if he did, he didn’t show it. He nods, though he looks as if he isn’t particularly interested in hanging out with them until Donghyuck comes rushing forward.

“I want to learn how to skate.” He declares, looking at the skateboards and the people riding them with amazement.

“Okay.” His words bring a smile to Renjun’s face. Mark watches as the dark-haired boy holds out his hand for the singer’s, “Come here then.”

Donghyuck looks unsure at first. He glances at Mark, and when the manager makes no move to stop him, he steps forward and offers his hand to Renjun who takes it with a smile.

“Do you want to use my board?” The dark-haired boy asks before pointing at the group of guys who appear to be arguing with each other, though it seemed more friendly than anything else, “Or if you like one of theirs better, we can just take it.”

“Yours is fine.” Donghyuck tells him, clearly nervous at Renjun’s mention of taking anything from the arguing group of boys.

“Suit yourself.” Renjun tells him with a shrug before dropping the board under his arm. He steadies it with his foot before motioning for Donghyuck to get on. Mark frowns at the distant ache in his chest when he takes in the way Renjun holds Donghyuck’s hand carefully in his as he explains how to keep a steady balance.

“Wow” Jaemin murmurs, “Hyuck is only the second person on the Earth that Renjun doesn’t actually hate.”

“He’s flirting.” Jeno tells them with an amused smile. When Jaemin scrunches his eyebrows in confusion and Mark looks over, displeasure shown in the furrowing of his forehead, Jeno explains, “Renjun never lets anyone ride his board, not even me.”

“But Hyuck’s cute like that. It’s kind of hard to say no to him.” Jaemin says before patting Mark on the shoulder with a devious smirk, “Right Mark?”

But Mark doesn’t scold him or offer anything back. Instead, he feels his fists clench and his chest tightens when Renjun wraps his arms around Donghyuck’s waist when he starts to fall and the singer avoids his gaze, face flushed in a way that lets Mark know Renjun’s flirting isn’t in vain. Even worse, he doesn’t know why his reaction is so intense. He pegs it down to the heat waves threatening to smother him and the fact that they’ve been traveling nonstop for days now.

“Are you okay?” Jeno asks, staring at Mark in concern, but Mark can’t reply, he’s too overwhelmed and dizzy from the sun. Jeno seems to realize this because he rushes over to the group of boys and grabs a black water bottle that he hurries back with and hands to Mark, “Here, drink this to cool down.”

Mark nods, accepting the water bottle. He pops the top off, takes one sip, then prompts spits it out.

“This isn’t water.” Mark croaks out, cringing at the burning sensation in his mouth.

“No, it’s Vodka and Sprite.” Jeno tells him casually and Mark is a little sick of him and his sweet smile after handing him actual poison.

“But why is it Vodka and Sprite?” Mark grips the front of Jeno’s shirt, shaking the other boy before he pulls away and drops to his knees, rocking himself shakily, “Why am I going to die here-“

“Okay but why would you die on my Fendi slides though-“ Jaemin says, kicking the manager when he gets too close to his feet.

“You seem out of it.” Jeno notes, helping Mark to his feet with a genuine smile, “Maybe something to eat will help. We have brownies.”

“I would like a brownie.” Mark whimpers shakily, on the verge of some sort of breakdown. Jeno nods, digging in his pocket and presenting a bag of small, miniature brownies.

“Someone take my picture.” Jaemin marches over to the group of rowdy boys and tosses one his phone, threatening to beat him with a Fendi slide if he doesn’t hurry up and do as asked.

“Nana, he’s crying.” Jeno says, staring at Mark with concern while opening the Ziplock bag in his hands.

“Make sure the lighting is good.” Jaemin tells the boy taking his picture.

He smiles then, leaning closer to Mark who has tears in his eyes and the smallest hint of snot running down his nose. He flashes a peace sign and the boy takes the picture. Once he’s done, Jaemin ignores Mark to look at the picture on his phone which he promptly posts to Instagram with the caption _fun in the sun_. Mark, who is tired of the injustice, is glad when Jeno hands him a brownie. He downs it in two bites and quickly holds out his hand for another.

“Ah, you really don’t want to eat these too fast.” Jeno tries to say as gently as possible but when Mark juts out his lip and looks as pathetic as possible, he quickly gives in, handing the bag to the older boy unsurely, “Just don’t eat too many, okay?”

Mark nods but then he’s already digging his hands in the bag and stuffing two more in his mouth. They tasted really good. Who knew Jeno was such a good baker.

“How long will you be in Cali?” Jeno asks Jaemin when the actor returns and wraps his arms around his boyfriend from behind.

“Just a day or so” Jaemin hums, resting his head on Jeno’s shoulder and nuzzling the blond’s neck, “You know how the fugitive life is, one day in Cali, the next in the annual Texas rodeo.”

Jeno crinkles his nose at his boyfriend’s words, though he couldn’t help but smile. Behind them, Renjun shows Donghyuck a flip on his skateboard that has the actor crying out dramatically and clapping in awe and the sight has Mark dumping the rest of the brownies in his mouth before muttering to himself about perishing in the desert heat.

“Well, since you’re here, you might as well come to the party at the house tonight.” Jeno says to Jaemin with a shy smile, as if he wasn’t sure the other boy would agree.

“Alcohol and cute boys?” Jaemin gasps, placing a hand on his chest, “It’s like I died and went to gay heaven. I’m in, and so are Donghyuck and Mark, once he’s finished braving the Gobi Desert and all.”

They both look over to see Mark fending off some invisible foe with the water bottle. He swings the black bottle wildly, speaking very quickly about how he’s the bravest soldier in the desert and this is _not_ his first battle and it wont be his last. Jaemin shakes his head while Jeno laughs.

“Hyung, what’s wrong with you? You’re embarrassing me.” Donghyuck seems to have abandoned his skateboarding lessons to reach out to Mark, only to raise a brow when the manager stabs him in the stomach with the water bottle.

Mark furrows his eyebrows when Donghyuck doesn’t seem to be hurt by his attack.

Jaemin and Jeno are quick to get the singer's attention. They motion for Donghyuck to go along with his manager’s episode, and the singer rolls his eyes but does as told. They watch as he holds his stomach and makes a pained noise.

“Oh no” He says dryly before falling to the ground, “I’m dead.”

Mark watches him die before he drops the water bottle and stares at his hands.

“I did it.” He whispers before looking up at the others, “I did it! I survived the desert, the drought. I am the conqueror of the sun and I-“

“I thought crackheads weren’t allowed in the park!” Renjun pouts, glancing at a man standing by the entrance who seemed to be some sort of security guard. The man takes one glance at Mark, a sweaty, delirious mess, and then he shrugs, making Renjun stick his tongue out at him.

“You are so brave.” Jaemin tells Mark. He places a hand on his chest as if overcome by being close to such a brave man. Then, he places his hands on Mark’s shoulder and looks him in the eye, speaking with as much sincerity as he can muster, “Braver than the rest of us”

Mark nods, clearly the sole conqueror of the desert and its beasts.

“We have to celebrate that bravery.” Jaemin tells him, “The only way we can do that is to have a party with a lot of booze and illegal substances, so I need to know, brave conqueror of all deserts, are you ready to be crowned king?”

Mark nods enthusiastically before cheering loudly and running off, only to fall down one of the ramps.

“Tragic.” Renjun mutters as Donghyuck and Jeno carefully scramble down the ramp to help the fallen king.

“I think you meant genius.” Jaemin tells him before clapping his hands and calling out to the others, “Let’s get a move on! Gay heaven awaits.”

The actor shoves his shades on his face before heading in the direction of Jeno’s jeep, Donghyuck and Jeno trail behind him, holding up a delirious, crying Mark, and Renjun shakes his head before stepping on his board and pushing off after them, skating into what he’s sure will be a night that he won’t forget.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot, but I decided to post the first part to see if it's worth continuing. If people actually like it, then I will def finish it! : )
> 
> Sorry if the dreamies seem a little out of character from how people usually write them. I try to stick to what's expected but always end up creating weird personalities for the characters in my fics. I know this can turn some people off though, so I'm sorry, I'll try to be better about sticking to it. The beginning kind of hints at it but this was meant to be a more tragic one shot that got lighter as I wrote it. The ending is still unclear to me, but expect a mixture of light/tense/angsty moments altogether. 
> 
> The title seems random but it's from the song "Monks" by Frank Ocean, which inspired me to write this.


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